


Valentine's Day Chase

by kissing2cousins



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Assassins & Hitmen, Chases, Coffee Shops, Established Relationship, Love, M/M, Sex, Tea, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 10:12:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3352757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kissing2cousins/pseuds/kissing2cousins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Valentine's Day and all its festivities interferes with an investigation Sherlock gives a short explanation on how he views the holiday to John.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Valentine's Day Chase

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nana_41175](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nana_41175/gifts).



> Having fun with this couple and Valentine's Day:)
> 
> Happy Heart Day!!!

The head of dark curls looked away from the large picture window, the man settling back into the bench seat of the small dimly lit coffee shop with a resigned exhale that was pregnant with frustration, as his gaze drifted aimlessly to the mug of tea steeping on the small table in front of him and then to the face of the doctor opposite him that was suddenly wrought with concern.  John leaned forward, his fingers wrapped around his own brightly colored mug of tea, and in a hushed tone he inquired, “What is it?  I thought…”

Sherlock’s eyes and nose crinkling as he leaned forward and brusquely grunted, “Speak up, John.  I can’t hear a blasted thing over the din of love and laughter in this blasted place.” 

John’s face cracked a smile as the pointed comment registered.  He shook his head and with the other man leaned in a little closer decided tried to reiterate his previous queries loud enough to be heard but not overheard in the Valentine’s Day plugged coffee shop.  Sherlock gave his companion a malicious glare, proving that not knowing was just as annoying to the consulting detective as having mistakenly missed his target in the first place.  “It’s not McDougal, John.  I mistook the last digit on the licence plate.  Can’t see a damned thing with all these bloody cheap looking hearts plastered all over the window.  This has proven to be all a waste.”

John’s smile only grew wider the more his companion complained.  It really was funny to hear the detective cursing love in general, seeing it was an affair of the heart that had brought them out in the middle of the Valentine’s Day lovers rush.  It wasn’t all a waste.  Not in John’s mind at least.  There was something viscerally arousing to be dodging an assassin through dark gritty alleyways at one turn and then sitting close together in a warm and inviting café, tea between them, lovers all around them, watching for their target to make his first big mistake, on Valentine’s Day with his own lover.  The detective wasn’t seeing it just yet—he was still sulking broodingly over losing his prey. 

It was just when John realized that he was staring that the detective’s head spun back at him and those pale variscite eyes were on him, intensely regarding him, scrutinizing him, boring into him.  They shared a long moment of eye contact, no communication passing successfully between them with their eyes alone, before John broke the contact and lifted his cup to his mouth to take a drink.  Sherlock’s eyes narrowed then and his head twitched slightly to the side as he leaned in closer and asked John, “What is it with normal people and this kind of holiday?  What is the point?  Cheap chocolates, doggerel greeting cards, and bouquets of flowers, capable of expressing only a material driven need to win the others affections for what surely can only be for a brief amount of time in order to gain access to the real prize…sex?”  John tried not to spit the tea from his mouth—swallowed—and then attempted to stifle the laughter, that had nearly choked him, behind his fist. 

Sherlock’s face blanched into a glaring mask of contempt, as he sat bolt upright and then flopped dramatically back against the bench.  The callous remark had been loud enough to be over heard by several of the couples closest to them, causing heads to swivel and glares to be exchanged.  The detective ignored them all, nonplussed by their obvious discomfort.  The man crossed his arms, his full lips and perfectly sculpted cupid’s bow pressing into a thin line, as John steeled his reserves, in order to restrain the hilarity of it.  Before he could manage this Sherlock began to deflect some of his own embarrassment back on his companion, revenge for having laughed at what the detective felt was an honest assessment of the holiday in question, which had interfered with their own intended activities for that evening—mostly resulting in his own lack of success.  “I hope that is not your own expectation for this evening, John.  I haven’t the slightest urge to feel that I must earn my way into your bed with market-propelled ideals of love and—oh!”

The man’s tirade was quickly silenced by a sharp pinch to his inner thigh, an opportunity which happened presented itself to the doctor as the detective had reclined to pout.  As Sherlock’s shocked outrage met his own devious smirk there passed a mutual understanding this time between their locked eyes that spurred action.  In a swirl of the dark wool jacket’s length, which made more than a few females amorously swoon, the detective was on his feet, ordering, “Come, John, lets reconvene over the clues we have on McDougall back at Baker Street.  Perhaps we will find something that we missed.”

The doctor was not far behind the lean form of his lover, as the man hailed a cabbie, and they climbed into the dark interior of the vehicle.  “Home, to 221B Baker Street.” He barked the command, as his black gloved hand reached over his companion’s blue jeans, to pinch lovingly along the inner seam of the pants—warning John what he had gotten himself into.

<3

 


End file.
